


The Marker

by itsmelazyb



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23407135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmelazyb/pseuds/itsmelazyb
Summary: Iris contemplates her impending death.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Iris West
Kudos: 15





	The Marker

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy :)

Iris West can feel her lips pinch and her jaw tighten as she gazes up at the glass board. She's transfixed by the details scrawled across it until a sudden noise jolts her from her reverie. She glances down to see the red marker she'd just been holding roll away from her. Transfixed, she watches it slowly creep towards the corner of the laboratory and disappear into a shadowy edge of the room. She blinks and loses its place. The longer she tries to discern exactly where it is, the further the darkness encroaches. Her chest tightens with anxiety and she abruptly turns her attention back to the thing that had gotten her out of bed and dragged her here in the first place.

It's the middle of the night and there she is standing alone in Star Labs. She's here because she doesn't know much of anything as of late, which is the only thing she can say with certainty, and this board should be making things clearer. For example, she can't explain how she never has enough time yet every minute that brings her closer to her death feels like a terrifying eternity. She's hoping the board can clarify this minor concern. She also doesn't know when and how to tell her father that she's going to die. She can't rationalize how despite knowing the details that lead up to her death, there is still a future where she can't save herself. She can hardly wrap her mind around it. Unhelpfully, she wonders how learning about her impending demise has changed the ways in which she understands time and her place in it. Fortunately for her, these depressing existential musings are interrupted by a concerned and familiar voice. She hears him before she sees him.

“Iris!” She blinks once and suddenly Barry Allen is standing before her, dishevelled and wild eyed, keeling over as he tries to catch his breath. She's hardly had the chance to get defensive before he tugs her into his arms. She squeezes him tightly and savours the moment.

“Before you say anything, I know this wasn't safe. I couldn't sleep so I came back here to look over a few things. It doesn't hurt to be extra thorough.” Barry steps back and slides his hands up along her shoulders before resting them on either side of her face. His body language belies his irritation as he looks at her.

“We're trying to get ahead of a psycho who wants to kill you.”

“You and I both know that I don't die today.”

Maybe it's her candidness or the implication that she will inevitably die by Savitar's hands that chases away Barry's relief at finding her because now he looks grim. She can always tell when he's preparing to lecture her; she foresees a lot of gesticulation, raised eyebrows, disappointed head shakes, and the unnecessary habit of repeatedly saying her name. Sometimes, all he says is her name, in between angry sputtering. But she doesn't want to fight today. Truthfully, she never wants to fight with him again. Iris grasps his hands as he tries to move them away from her face. She takes one hand and clutches it to her chest whilst pulling the other back to rest against her cheek and hold him in place. She gives him a chaste kiss against his palm and looks up at him.

“I know you and Team Flash will do everything possible to save me. But I also know that the odds are stacked against us. I'm trying to do my part in saving my own life.”

“You're not used to this,” he says seriously.

“What? Trying to outrun a god?” She quips.

“No. Relying on people.” Iris lifts her head from his warm palm and stares at him. His eyes look a bit sad and it bothers her for reasons she can't afford to explore at this moment, as is always the case as of late.

“I am plenty used to accepting help, what with The Flash just a few seconds behind me everywhere I go. This isn't about me relying on others as it is about being out of my element. Journalistic gumption is useless to me here. I can't kick or shoot my way out of this either. And I sure as hell can't run away from it.” At some point, she'd unknowingly moved away from him, putting space between them and she regrets it.

“Nice try but that's not the same thing. The Flash running to your rescue when you fall off a building or get caught in a terrorist plot-. ”

“I'm sorry but how long has this been our lives again?” She interjects because sometimes, somehow, she forgets.

“-is not you asking for help. I'm not talking about heroics, Iris. I'm talking about the stuff that scares you, the things that would normally be too much for people.” Honestly, she's paying attention to him; following every word that comes out of his mouth, how his lips move, the furrows in his brows, and the way his long lean hands move to punctuate his words. She's annoyed but she really regrets moving away from him.

“I want to be around you all the time.” She blurts it out before she convinces herself not to say it. Barry, who looked to be preparing for a follow up point, pauses and waits expectantly.

“I want to spend every possible minute together. Every morning I wake up and just want to stay in bed with you. I want you to ditch work and spend your day with me. I obsessively memorize every detail of your face and body, like I haven't spent years around you. I want to touch you every chance I get. It is literally all I think about when I'm not around you and also when I am. I start to feel anxious when I'm away from you for too long. Too long used to mean a few hours and now it means when we're in the same room but apart. Like right now.” She leans against the desk and hugs herself tight. She watches him, her wonderful and kind Barry, as he closes the distance, looking perplexed but determined. The kiss is comforting, and it brings immediate relief. He pulls away and moves to lean against the desk, beside her, arms brushing.

“This person you're describing sounds a lot like vintage Barry,” he says and Iris can't help but start laughing. She laughs until her gut starts to hurt, both at his joke and at how much she knows he enjoyed making it.

“Don't get me started on him. How dare you be in love with me from the age of 11 and never tell me?”

“Actually, I fell in love with you the day we met.”

“But that's almost our entire lives. You're not helping Old Barry's case.”

“I thought it was romantic?”

“Carrying a torch for a hundred years is not romantic. And then to fan the flames, you decided to confess your undying love while I was in a serious relationship with someone else.” Barry has the decency to look sheepish, but Iris suspects he doesn't feel all that guilty about it.

“Do you know how mad I was when you told me? I was furious.”

“Oh, I remember. It was the first time we'd ever dealt with that kind of uncomfortable awkwardness.” Smiling, she turns to look at him then, kisses him, and settles beside him again.

“You should have told me sooner.”

“Had you ever thought about me before I told you?”

“When we were kids, I liked taking care of you. You'd gone through this terrible thing and I wanted to be in your corner. I didn't have interests in boys until high school. But, the first time I noticed you wasn't until our college years.” The memory makes her smile and Barry looks down at her and grins.

“Are you remembering my sexy twenty-something body?”

“Something like that. I hadn't seen you for about two years because you hadn't visited on summer break.”

“I intentionally didn't come back that summer because I thought some space would help me get over you.”

“I was pissed about it. We'd hardly talked on the phone and you were always busy. When you told me you were coming down, I was sure I was going to punch you.”

“Now that would have been the perfect moment for me to tell you I loved you.”

“No! Your idea of romantic is concerning sometimes, Barry. I would have punched you into another timeline. I wasn't even as mad for me as I was for dad.”

“It was a bad idea,” he says looking a bit guilty.

“It was. I was confident about everything I was going to say and exactly how guilty I was going to make you feel. I got back home before you'd arrived and I fell asleep on the couch, watching TV. You woke me up.”

*

Iris awoke with a start as warm hands shook her out of her afternoon nap. She'd forgotten how wonderful it was to take power naps in the middle of the day as university and waitressing had robbed her of this luxury. However, she didn't have time to stew in her blissfulness as her eyes took in her childhood best friend Barry Allen. He sat on the table in front of her, his elbows propped on his thighs, his hands dangling between his legs and leaning forward, like he'd been watching her. He was perfectly lit by the sunlight that filtered through the window and wearing a plaid shirt she'd seen him wear a thousand times before but now looked so different on him. He looked older and defined; there were lines on his face that she either didn't remember being there or had happened during his absence. He'd filled out a little and his old shirt was now snug around his shoulders and arms. He looked good and she was immediately irrationally self conscious of how much she'd been drooling before he'd decided to wake her.

“Hi.” Barry's voice, warm and kind, was clear in the silent room. The fight had left her the moment she'd seen him, but she'd kept up pretenses to make a point.

“Where the hell have you been for the last two years?” She asked as she propped herself upright, adjusting her legs to settle between his, and leaned forward to shove his left shoulder.

He'd looked momentarily frightened and then determined. She remembered that he tried to explain himself by using excuses like his busy school schedule and a part time job. She'd let him ramble on because she wanted him to feel guilty for ignoring her, but his voice gradually faded to white noise as she again found herself discreetly checking him out. She blamed it on the perfectly parted curtains and the picturesque glow from the sun's rays. Iris' favourite physical feature on Barry had always been his smile but she found herself confronted by every little thing about him. She realized how far down this rabbit hole she'd gone when Barry snapped her out of her reverie. 

What?” She asked, quietly mortified that Barry may have noticed her attention on him. She stared right into his ridiculously green eyes defiantly, reminding herself she was supposed to be mad at him.

“You grew out your hair.” It was just an observation. He didn't even say it looked good.

“I got bored of the short hair.” She reflexively brought her hand up to fiddle with a loose bit of hair that had fallen in front of her shoulder.

He watched her push the strands behind her shoulder and she watched as his gaze shifted to her face. For a moment, she was sure he'd looked at her lips. She could feel her face start to warm and she wondered if she was aglow from the sunlight just like Barry. Did she look different and prettier too?

“It looks really nice – I mean, it suits you. You – it looks prettier. Your hair.” He rushed the words out, sincerely and awkwardly as usual, and she was again inexplicably self conscious.

“Well that's what happens when you disappear for two years. People change,” she said, attempting to steer the conversation and remind herself she was supposed to be mad. In the interest of creating distance, she pushed herself up onto the couch and climbed over the back. A less attractive escape route but nevertheless effective. This plan appeared to backfire when Barry started laughing instead.

“You can't escape me Iris. Climb over all the furniture you want but we're here together for the next four months. Make up for lost time. All I heard was that you missed me.” He smiled sheepishly and then made his way to the suitcases in the front hall.

“You're not getting off that easy.”

“After I unpack, do you want to come with me to visit dad?” He asked as he began grabbing his luggage. A long silence made him pause and look over his shoulder. She distinctly remembered her own feelings of irritation and fondness, and something like affection on his face when he'd looked at her.

“Cheap shot. I hate you and yes, I'm coming.” He laughed again as he grabbed too many bags and then made the awkward climb up the stairs.

“Should I bring him some of my banana muffins?”

“No! Just leave them for me.”

*

“You always knew how to get me to forget why I was mad. I could be so angry at you but all it took was some stupid thing you’d say or trip over.” She could feel the warmth of Barry’s body as she leaned her head against his shoulder and stared ahead at that stupid board. She swallowed hard around the painful lump in her throat. She wanted to relive that moment with him again but knowing what she knows now.

“I always tell you to think about the bigger picture and I stand by that but sometimes -,” She cut herself short. She didn’t want to be responsible for Barry filling his head with selfish romantic ideas.

“Wish that I could jump through every moment of time and risk creating a million alternative timelines to fix this? Screw the consequences if it means I get to save you?” He was staring ahead, forlornly, and she felt her heart squeeze. She watched him carefully, looking for anything resembling hope. She slid her fingers though his and held his hand and waited. After some time, he finally blinked and looked down at her.

“I can’t picture a future without you. There isn’t a part of my life that you haven’t made better and more beautiful. You’ve fought my bullies and helped me through every horrible moment in my life but more than that, you always believed me. You’ve never wavered and it’s because you know me better than I know myself. I can’t understand who I am without you.” She reached up with her free hand and laid her palm against his face. They looked at each other for a long moment and Iris willed time to slow down. She was startled when Barry suddenly moved to crowd her, effectively trapping her.

“What is it?” She asked while leaning back, letting her arms bear her weight against the desk.

“I won’t let you die.” He said it with such conviction and feeling. And there was that hope she’d been looking for all tangled up in Barry’s words, in his hands as they wrapped around her waist, and bursting out like electric energy around him. She brought her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

When he pulled back only to kiss her, she let him. It felt distracting, greedy and sad but nevertheless safe. Barry’s hands ghosted along her skin beneath her shirt before firmly gripping her waist. She gently tugged at his hair and slanted her lips just so to deepen the kiss. She could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest and how burning hot Barry’s body felt against her. She was vaguely conscious of the fact that they were making out in Star Labs and their teammates would get an eyeful on security footage if they didn’t stop right now. Fate appeared to be aware too as their desk suddenly slipped under their weight, sliding back to hit the wall, and subsequently knocking a bunch of things over. Barry had steadied them both without incident and they observed the damage.

“Do you wanna come back to my place? I’ll let you stay forever, if you like.” She teased as she turned her attention to him. He was still holding her, but he was focused on everything strewn across the floor.

“Let me just clean up this mess and I’ll get us there in a flash.” He didn’t wait for her groan at his overuse of that saying and before she’d blinked, he’d put everything back as it once was. She glanced at the glass board one last time for the night and to her surprise there sat the marker she’d dropped earlier.

“All done. Let’s go home.”


End file.
